The New Girl
by VJ Spencer
Summary: People believe Sherlock is incapable of love. But that's not true. There was a girl, once. A girl called Kathy McKenzie. She had nerves of steel, an inability to make a final decision and a tendency to do the unexpected. This is the story of how Sherlock's first and only love came to be...
1. Chapter 1

The ferry chugged along on the choppy waves of the ocean, and Kathy sat looking out of the window, an open comic book on her lap. She had never been to a boarding school before. In fact, she'd never been on a boat before. But Kathy was a person who felt comfortable in new situations. She didn't mind that no one was talking to her just yet - being in her own company was quite comfortable for her, as was making conversation with complete strangers.

But there was only one boy who stuck out from the crowd in the rabble of noisy teenagers; chatting and joking and teasing away around her. He was sat in the seat behind her, reading. And the new girl, when she could restrain herself no longer and her boredom took over, decided to interrupt his peace.

"Hey," She said, kneeling over the back of the seat to talk to him, "I'm Kathy."

He glared up at her and pulled the collar of his coat high around his face. He didn't want to talk to her. He didn't want to talk to anyone. Surely she knew that? Everyone else did.

"Usually that's when you tell me your name...?" Kathy added inquiringly.

He still refused to answer her.

"Leave it," Another girl - Clarissa - who was sat o the opposite side of the row - said, "He doesn't talk to anyone. He's a freak."

Kathy looked at the other girl and tilted her head to the side, like a dog in deep thought. She stared at Clarissa judgingly. Only when she began to look uncomfortable did Kathy break her stare and look back at the boy who was sat behind her.

"A freak huh?" Kathy said, only to be met with silence once more, "That's what they used to call me at my old school. I think it's cause of the hair, y'know? And maybe the piercings. What d'you think?"

At this point, the boy reluctantly raised his eyes and surveyed Kathy's nose, ear and eyebrow studs, as well as the streaks of bright blue in her hair. Everything about her showed she was a bit of an oddball. The boy glared again and went back to shoving her nose deep into an old hard-back book.

"Whatcha readin'?" Kathy asked.

"Nothing that would interest you."

"Ha! So you _do_ talk! I knew I could make you!"

The boy scowled once again.

"So will you tell me your name now?"

"Why does it interest you so much what my name is?" The boy snapped irritably.

She pondered that for a millisecond, "I don't know," She answered, "I guess it's just cause you're different to the rest of the people on here. I like different."

The boy grumbled something under his breath and went back to reading. Kathy just watched him for a little while, resting her chin on the back of her seat, and trying her best to stay quiet. It was clear she was finding it difficult.

"If you don't tell me your name I'll just give you one of my own," She announced, almost to herself, "I think you look like a Simon...or maybe a Ben...or perhaps Christopher -"

"Can't you just leave me alone? I'm trying to read."

"I _can_. But since you didn't ask nicely, I'm not going to. Now show me what you're reading..."

Before the boy could protest, Kathy snatched the old book out of his hands and began to survey the front cover.

"Hey! Give that back!"

"Oh _chillax_, for goodness sake," She laughed, "I won't lose your place."

"That book is nearly a hundred years old!" he proclaimed, "It has been passed down through four generations of my family, and is _incredibly_ fragile! You'll ruin the binding!"

"Blah, blah, blah," Kathy muttered as she turned over page after page, before smelling the novel, "Mmm. I like it. Odd choice though - _'The History of the Royal Family'_?"

"My brother read it and claims it was fascinating. I'm determined to beat him at remembering key facts from it."

"Ah, I see you're opening up now." She gave a self-satisfied smirk.

The boy scowled once more, "I am not!" He argued, "I'm simply informing you of information you requested."

"Alright," Kathy sighed, clearly not giving a damn about what his response had been, but she handed back the book teasingly. The boy snatched it from her.

"I like your hair," Kathy said after a long moment when the boy thought she had given up, "But then again, I've always had a thing for curls. Especially dark ones. Is it natural?"

Silence.

"You really don't talk much, do you?"

Silence.

"You know I'm not gonna leave until we have a proper conversation."

Double silence.

"I won't give up. You'd be surprised. People always are. I can find things to talk about with anyone - no matter how different we are. I mean, it's impossible for two people not to have _something_ in common. There's always something. I've learned that -"

"Fine! I'll talk to you!"

Kathy smiled triumphantly. And proceeded to involve the boy in deep conversation. Well, you wouldn't really call it conversation, considering Kathy was the one doing most of the talking. The boy was having difficulty getting a word in. But he didn't really mind. Despite how much he had originally resented the girl, he was for some reason interested in her persistence. He found her fascinating to watch and listen to because of her ability to be unpredictable. And despite what her first impression made her come across as, she was actually rather intelligent. Annoying, but intelligent.

"So what's your favourite hobby?" She asked, changing the subject at lightening pace for about the hundredth time.

"I don't _have_ hobbies."

"Sure you do. Everyone does. What do you do the most in your spare time?"

He thought for a moment. "Learn."

"_Learn_?" She repeated in shock and what seemed like some form of disgust, "How boring are _you_? No. What else?"

The boy thought for a moment, "I deduce." He finally said.

"Hmm. That sounds interesting," Kathy said mysteriously, "Tell me more."

"I deduce things," The boy shrugged, "I analyze facts and use them to make an educated deduction about something or someone. I find it relatively easy, but I haven't found a single person other than my brother capable of doing it to such high standard -"

"Teach me."

"It can't really be taught-"

"Teach. Me."

"It's difficult to -"

"Fine. Show me then."

She waited expectantly and returned the boys gaze as he sat there and glared at her impatience. She was annoying. But interesting. And the fact that he just couldn't focus on nothing but her drove him insane. Reluctantly, he huffed. Then turned to face Clarissa, the girl across the aisle, who had previously called him a freak (and not for the first time, either."

"Take her for example," He said, "red hair. Pale skin. And slight hint of an Edinburgh accent. Only slight because she's shipped off to boarding school every year. Hence why she's on the boat. She gets travel sick. Anyone can tell that by the wristbands and the slight green tinge in her cheeks - and the fact that she's keeping those vomit bags within arm's reach at all times. She wears a skirt. A short one, too. And it's risen higher and higher up her leg since she's gotten on board. I presume the dark haired boy sat a few rows in front is behind it, as her eyes keep glancing up towards him. Her shoes are new - rigid and relatively clean. But they're scuffed at the back and on the sides and covered with fine traces of sand. She went on the beach before getting on the boat. Why? Saying goodbye to her boyfriend who goes to school back home. But she doesn't like the long distance. It was fun rolling around on the sand with him - it's in her hair and she hasn't bothered to get rid of it - but despite his lovely gift of the gold chain around her neck, he doesn't like long distance. Hence why she's so determined to catch the eye f the dark haired boy in front."

The boy turned to look at Kathy again. Her expression showed she was impressed. _Very_ impressed. The boy controlled his urge to smile in pride. He was determined to keep up his icy reputation.

"There. Happy?"

"Well. Fuck me. That was incredible!" She laughed, "Absolutely incredible!"

"Thank you." He said, without emotion.

"But," She added, catching the boy's attention again (it irritated him how she had such power over him), "In all fairness, I presume you've known this girl for some time considering she already has a pretty strong opinion of you. Care to use such powers on someone you don't know?"

She held her head high, as if posing to have her portrait painted. The boy gave her a blank expression as he analysed her.

"You're not from a wealthy background, judging by your well-worn clothes and rucksack that has been stitched up on more than one occasion. The only reason you managed to afford boarding school was because your father died and he left you enough money behind. Your mother sent you away because she wants you to have a fighting chance in the world, unlike she did. Your younger brothers aren't happy about your departure. And how do I know all this? I saw your family at the port. One mother: dressed in black, recently been crying. Three young boys refusing to let go of you. Also crying. No sign of the father. I suppose he could just have been at work. But you're a close family. H wouldn't have missed sending his daughter off for the world. Logical explanation: inheritance do to the passing of your father."

The boy surveyed Kathy's shocked face and for once he saw that her smile had faded. Part of him felt this was an accomplishment that deserved to be celebrated. The rest of him felt bad for ruining girl's fun.

"How...how did you know my mum wanted me to have a better life than she did?"

"You're of a poor family. She obviously didn't get a good education, else she would have gotten a good job and your financial state would have been better. Naturally, every parent wants a better life for their child than they had when they were young."

Kathy stared at him for a moment longer, processing everything the boy had just said to her. He hoped she didn't cry. He wouldn't know what to do if she cried...

But she didn't.

She burst out laughing.

"Oh...my... _gosh_!" She gasped between fits of giggles, "That was amazing! And you sounded so _serious_! You really do take this deducing stuff seriously, don't you? You're very passionate about it. I like that. Told you everyone has a hobby!"

The boy looked at her, amazed. No one ever reacted like that when he revealed such personal details just by looked at them. it usually made people feel vulnerable and exposed - make them wonder if it was just as clear to everyone else, as if everyone could read them just as easily as he did.

But, of course, no one else ever could.

And the thing was, rather than feeling exposed, Kathy felt like she had connected to this strange teenage boy that sat behind her on the ferry. She liked him. She liked his curly hair. She liked that he was a little out of place, like she was. A bit of an outsider. She liked that he was totally unexpected, and that she had the ability to surprise him, but that he also refused to reveal anything in return.

But Kathy liked a challenge.

A voice then came over the ship's speakers: "If all pupils could please take their seats, we will soon be making port. Ensure you have all personal belongings ready for departure."

Without hesitating, Kathy grabbed her backpack, jumped out of her seat and into the one next to the curly haired boy - leaping over him in the process. He was rather shocked, and appeared not quite sure what to do. But Kathy smiled warmly - totally at ease with the situation - and despite how much he tried to resist, the boy began to feel at ease too.

"So what do I call you?" Kathy asked.

"Sherlock." The boy answered, "Sherlock Holmes."

"Nice to finally be able to call you something," Kathy giggled, "I'm Kathy McKenzie."

And that was that. A friendship was made.

But this was only the beginning.


	2. Chapter 2

" 'The Soliloquy School of Academic Excellence'. " Kathy read aloud as her feet touched dry land for the first time in just over an hour, "Got quite a ring to it if you ask me, don't you think?"

She looked up at the giant school before her. Perched on a rocky hill; an ancient castle, surrounded by a tall stone wall, stood magnificently against the bleak grey sky. The surrounding beach was flat and lifeless with scummy waves lapping up against the shore. The students piled out of the ferry and onto the half-mile-long concrete causeway that led to the school. It appeared to be the only modern thing in existence.

"It was built by the Nazis when they invaded the island during the Second World War," Sherlock explained, even though Kathy had not asked where the long ma-made jetty had come from, "They took over and ruined most of the traditional landscape with concrete and metal. They didn't care about preserving the ancient building for future generations to enjoy."

"It doesn't look too bad," Kathy said, as she and Sherlock fell to the back of the large group. They lingered by the large, decaying sign that had once displayed the school's name in beautiful gold lettering. Now, the salty sea air had worn the paintwork away, so only a shadow of the writing remained. It was still able for one to read it - but only if they were relatively close to the sign.

"Hmm." Sherlock answered expressionlessly to Kathy's remark. He tightened his scarf around his neck and tucked his book safely away in his satchel. The wind was harsh out by the sea - sharp and cold and searching - so even under his thick coat Sherlock found himself shivering.

Kathy, on the other hand, wore nothing but a baggy old hoodie - and she appeared unaffected by the strong breeze. She was enjoying it, even; her blue hair whipping about in the breeze as she admired the dreary horizon.

"Oh I love this place already!" She said over the roaring of the wind and the crashing of the sea as the students were marched up towards the school, "It's so _historical_! There's just a good air about it, don't you think? I feel so freeeee!"

She twirled around in circles with her arms outstretched and felt the breeze beneath them. She was completely carefree and happy - so much so that she nearly lost her footing and would have plummeted to the rocky floor below had Sherlock not grabbed her arm before she fell.

"Would you stop being so reckless?" He hissed, "You could have gotten yourself killed!"

"Oh don't be such a spoil sport!" She laughed, linking arms with him, much to his annoyance, "I was just having some fun."

"Get _off_ me!" Sherlock snapped, shaking her away and hunching his shoulders ever higher. Kathy tilted her head to one side again and looked at him. She was certain he was using the collar of his coat to try and hide the blush rising in his cheeks.

"Alright, Moody," She muttered, with a smirk, "Someone's got their knickers in a twist."

He huffed in his annoyance but said nothing. Even though he had found the last half hour of the journey very mentally stimulating due to Kathy's presence, Sherlock still thought the girl was a little...what was the expression ordinary people used...? "In-Your-Face"? What annoyed him most was that he found her excruciatingly aggravating, but every now and again she said something that made him agonizingly curious about her. He wanted her to leave him alone, but at the same time he wanted to spend more time with her so as to figure out how her brain worked. She was a puzzle that he hadn't as of yet been able to solve - and Sherlock Holmes was never a boy to give up on a puzzle.

So, despite his best efforts, it appeared that this McKenzie girl was here to say.

_Might as well make an effort_, Sherlock thought.

But of course - being Sherlock Holmes - he did not.

If anything, he just made it even more difficult for her.

After walking along the causeway; past the abandoned church that stood on a high, lone piece of rock; past the worn-down rubble houses to its side; past the concrete Nazi bunker; through the small field with the concrete paved path and up the creaky wooden staircase that led to a metal gate, the large snake of children and guiding teachers arrived within the high stone walls of the school. The gateway that they were led through was made of strong steel; pointy and sharp at the top to ensure it was almost impossible for anyone to climb over - and Kathy flinched away when it was slammed shut behind her by the groundskeeper: an old, miserable man with a face that showed he didn't love a single soul on the earth.

"Well isn't he a bundle of joy," Kathy said sarcastically, as the old man snapped the locks shut on the gate.

"That's Mr Fung," Sherlock said, sounding bored, "Ignore him. He's a miserable old man. I don't believe we got off on the right foot when I first met him."

"How so?"

"Well let's just say he wasn't happy when he discovered I'd managed to pick the lock to that gate and went for a stroll around the island when the tide was out."

"You should definitely teach me how to do that," Kathy grinned.

"Maybe," Sherlock answered, "But not today. On the first day of term everyone is given time to unpack their things and make themselves at home again. I've never understood why. It only takes me about ten minutes."

"Ten minutes?" Kathy laughed, "You don't have much stuff, do you?"

Sherlock looked at her, blank-faced, not seeing what was so funny.

"No," He answered, "I don't."

Kathy's laughter faltered until only her smile remained. Sherlock looked at her, for some reason incredibly aware that she was looking at him. It was a strange feeling that surged through him - something he had never felt before - and the obscurity of it confused him.

Sherlock Holmes did not like being confused.

"Stop it," He snapped, crossing his arms over his chest tightly.

"Stop what?"

"Just...just _leave me alone_!"

With a deadly scowl, Sherlock strode off; heading up towards the castle while the rest of the students pretended to listen to what the teacher was saying to them. The courtyard they were stood in was vacant, and had once been the market place for the residents of the tiny island. The sharp breeze whistled through the large open space, rattling the open doors of the surrounding buildings - what Kathy could only presume were the classrooms, judging from the many desks she saw inside.

And no one questioned it when Sherlock drew himself away from the crowd, and his figure began shrinking in the distance as he made his way up the grand stone staircase to the entrance of the castle.

His shoulders were hunched, his collar was high, and his stride and scowl showed everyone that he was in a bad mood.

But Kathy couldn't stop staring at him. She found him fascinating - absolutely fascinating - and even though he was the most confusing and complex person Kathy had ever met, she still couldn't help but admire him for his undeniable intelligence and individual personality.

Not to mention those luscious curls. And full lips. And amazingly sharp cheekbones that could surely slice paper...

Wait. What was she saying? This was her first day of school - not even that; her first _morning_. And already she was falling for the talk, dark, mysterious boy that stood out from the crowd when all he wanted was to blend into the shadows.

She sighed.

_Well_, Kathy thought, _Typical me, I guess_.

And, even though Sherlock would tear his hair out in his confusion if he found out, Kathy had not been hurt by his sudden outburst of rage. Kathy changed her mind and her mood all the time - if she judged others for being critical, then that would only make her a hypocrite.

In the wide courtyard, the teacher continued to drone on; her feeble voice lost in the force of the wind. Kathy gave up trying to hear the words being said, and instead found her eyes sliding up to the castle once more.

Her breath caught when she saw that boy at the top of the steps, staring down at her.

Their eyes met for a split second, before he turned his back and disappeared into the darkness of the school entrance.

Mystery at its best.


	3. Chapter 3

_Tap-tap-tap_ went Kathy's fork as she tapped it against the table. _Tap-tap-tap_.

The dining area was a strange place. It was a converted old shop - the original wooden beams still in place, and wooden shutters still on the windows. And yet the twenty-first century seemed to have stamped its ugly man-made signature on the place: gleaming white tables; uncomfortable plastic chairs; and steaming pots and pans of over-cooked vegetables, soup that was of an unnatural shade of green, and chocolate pudding that was the only thing that tasted remotely good on the menu.

But Kathy wasn't bothered that her chicken casserole appeared to be moving on its own. She wasn't bothered that everyone in the room was crowding around tables with people they knew - laughing, giggling, chatting loudly - except her. She was looking at all those smiley faces as forkfuls and spoonfuls of the disgusting food was shovelled down their hungry throats; searching. Searching for one particular face - but every time she was disappointed.

Because none of them had those cheekbones. None of them had those luscious dark curls that were just begging to have hands run through them. None of them had beautiful bright eyes that were filled with mystery and attempted to disguise what was really going on in that mind...

That mysterious boy. Sherlock Holmes. Where _was_ he?

_Surely_ he was hungry? He had to be hungry. It had been four days now since they had first arrived on the island. Lessons had started. Kathy had socialised with others. She's made herself quite at home in her dorm with the other two girls that she shared with.

But she hadn't seen Sherlock once.

His name had been called out by the teachers in class when they were taking the register, only for everyone to turn to the singular empty desk at the back where it was clear someone was supposed to be sitting. There had been no since of that thick coat billowing in the wind in the yard at break times, much to Kathy's disappointment. She had even lingered in the boys' dorm corridor in the hope of "accidentally" bumping into him, only to have all the other boys jokingly imply that she was someone's booty call and had an arrangement with a fellow student.

And Sherlock also hadn't arrived at the canteen for any meal times. At all.

For _four whole bloody days_.

It wasn't right that it was bothering her - she didn't usually let people get to her like this. But this Sherlock Holmes was different from the rest. He was mysterious, and Kathy had never met a boy she would ever describe as "mysterious" before.

Usually, with boys, Kathy kept things very casual - _incredibly_ casual, in fact. Due to the fact she could never make up her mind for definite, she thought it unfair to insinuate that she wanted a steady relationship - never in that past seventeen years of her life had she ever been able to do such a thing. She wasn't a slut, as some people might presume. She just preferred to stay friends with guys and have a bit of fun - things were always far less complicated that way; promises weren't broken and feelings weren't hurt.

Of course, that was not to say that Kathy never wanted to fall in love; because she did. But, for now, there had never been someone who had had the little spark she was looking for. A guy had never managed to hold her attention for more than a month or two...

But that was before she had met Sherlock Holmes.

Because Sherlock had done an _incredibly_ good job of getting into her mind, crossing his arms, and refusing to leave her train of thought.

For _four whole bloody days_.

No boy had _ever_ managed to do _anything_ like that to Kathy McKenzie.

Kathy huffed. This was ridiculous. And annoying. Infuriating, in fact - and she'd had enough.

There was no point in waiting for him to come waltzing through those old doors to the canteen, to sit down next to her, and to start sharing the horrible food that sat, untouched, on Kathy's tray - no matter how much she wished he would. Because the taste wouldn't matter then. It wouldn't matter what they were eating, or what they were doing, or even where they were - she just wanted to see him again. To talk to him. And to satisfy her selfish greed for his unusual and engaging company.

Tired, Kathy pushed her tray across the table. She wasn't going to eat.

Instead, she got up, walked over to the nearest table where she noticed one of the girls from her English class, and introduced herself.

Kathy could force a friendship with anyone - the best ones being with those who were willing to accept new people in their lives.

The most difficult and challenging being with those who seemed to avoid her.

But Kathy liked a challenge more than anything. Ever.

And Sherlock Holmes was the biggest challenge she had ever had to face.

So, yes, she liked him.

A lot.


	4. Chapter 4

_Thud_.

Sherlock lay in his four-poster bed, staring up at the ceiling.

_Thud_.

He'd been there for a while now. How long exactly, he couldn't be sure.

_Thud_.

The rhythmic throwing and catching of the tennis ball was quite relaxing to his mind. He had been in deep thought for what must have been a few days now, about serious and important matters that could not be discussed with the average minds of his fellow classmates. The teachers never questioned Sherlock's absence from class. They had grown quite accustomed to it over the years, and had finally realised that neither Sherlock nor his mother had any particular interest in Sherlock's education. It was a queer thing. Because, even though the solitary, skinny boy had the worst class attendance record in the history of the ancient school, he still received the highest marks.

People had looked into it. But none could figure out just how he did it. The teachers had expressed their concern towards Sherlock on many occasions, only to have been thanked in a customary manner and then ignored entirely. After a while, they gave up. Much like the students who had tried to socialise with the boy upon first meeting.

_Thud_.

Sherlock did not care for company. He never had done, and presumed he never would do, considering he saw no point in the whole thing. He found conversations with other people his age dull and pointless, as no one seemed capable of understanding the conversational topics that interested him. It was far easier, and mentally stimulating, to just shut himself in his room and fall back into the dark abyss that was his mind; searching and arranging his thoughts. Contemplating views on topics of the utmost importance. And, most of all, figuring out brain benders that average minds would find baffling.

His stomach did not growl in hunger, like most would presume after four days of doing nothing, and his eyes did not tire, even though he had not properly rested at all whilst at the castle. Sherlock had an inhuman way of blocking out his body's cries for basic human needs. It was unnatural, but it was something he had trained himself to do over the years, as he thought things such as eating and sleeping were boring and time-consuming.

Sherlock Holmes did not waste time.

And he knew no one was missing him. Why should they? He had been told since his first day at school that he was a freak - someone who didn't fit in and never would do. Sherlock had come to terms with this, and it no longer bothered him. "The Freak" was far to occupied with other things than to bother with the bitter words of under-developed minds. He knew that, in the end, he would win. The smartest always did.  
But the one thought that was always lurking in the shadows of his complex and twisted mind, was the fair face of that girl he had met on the boat. The girl that wouldn't leave her alone. The girl that was different to the others...

He had tried to block her out of his mind, and had been successful, at first. But, out of curiosity, on the fifth night when the moon was full in the night's sky, Sherlock took down the defensive wall in his brain that was refusing Kathy McKenzie to enter the forefront of his mind.

He closed his eyes, and he thought about her.

The tennis ball lay in his limp, pale fingers on the bed, and for the first time in a long time, Sherlock fell in to a deep and dreamful sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

"Kathy?" A voice timidly whispered in Kathy's ear, "Kathy? You awake?"

"W-wha-?" Kathy groaned, looking up from under her sleeping mask with bleary eyes and the petite girl looking down at her. Due to the darkened sky outside, she couldn't quite see who it was, "What time is it?"  
"Seven-thirty," The girl beamed, "Are you getting up?"

"_Seven-thirty_?" Kathy repeated, flabbergasted as to why _anyone_ would _ever_ want to get up that early at the weekend, "But it's _Saturday_!"

The petite girl seemed to shrink away slightly as Kathy yanked the covered back over her messy head full of hair. She didn't leave, however. Kathy could still feel her standing there.

"I know you're still there Lauren."

"I just...I-I thought you s-said you wanted to come down t-to the beach with m-me this morning...?"  
Kathy sat up again.  
"Well, _yeah_," She answered, "But when you said 'morning' I thought you meant, like, eleven or something like that. Not _seven-bloody-thirty_."

"But...but the tide would be in by then..." Lauren mumbled, "And...I d-did say w-we'd be getting up early..."

"Eleven _is_ early!"

Lauren stood by the side of Kathy's bed, looking frail and doe-like. Her large brown eyes always looked like they were on the verge of tears, which only made Kathy feel even more guilty about yelling at the poor little thing. Lauren was a shy, quiet girl, who spent much of her time reading or doing things nature-related. She had perfectly straight, mousy-brown hair that went all the way down her back, and only came up to Kathy's shoulder when they were stood next to each other - despite being the same age. It was her hunched-over shoulders and stooped head that led people to mistake her for a First-Year. She was one of the girls with whom Kathy was sharing a dorm.

"Oh, fine!" Kathy sighed, regrettably, "Just give me ten minutes, okay? What's the weather like outside?"

"Cold," Lauren informed her, glancing out of the only window in their room, "As you would expect for an island this small in the middle of a British Autumn."

It had been nearly a month now since Kathy had begun her new life at The Soliloquy School of Academic Excellence. She had to admit, she had settled in quite well, and now did not spend her lunch times sat alone in the cafeteria, waiting for a mysterious dark-haired boy to come and join her. After a week of his absence, she had given up searching the crowds for him, and had decided to simply move on and focus on finding where she fit best in her new group of friends. There were times, admittedly, when Kathy wondering if she'd just imagined Sherlock Holmes. She had managed to thoroughly convince herself that he had simply been pure fiction, created in her slightly odd brain, when she had accidentally bumped into him down the science corridor. Kathy had been following Lauren back to the Biology lab in search of a lost textbook, when - _whack_! They ran smack-bang into one another.

The force had been so strong actually, that Kathy had been knocked over onto her back, scattering her books all across the floor. Her senses had been momentarily impaired, but she definitely felt a cool, bony hand below her elbow, lifting her to her feet again.

"Ow..." Kathy said, rubbing her now-sore shoulder blades, "Thanks, I guess."  
She had then attempted to make conversation, but Sherlock had just mumbled something the lines of, "Um..you're welcome. Whatever." Before hunching his shoulders and scurrying off again, without so much as a goodbye.

That was the moment when Lauren rejoined her, textbook in hand.

"What is _with_ that guy?" Kathy had asked her, as they began to make their way back to their dorm.

"No one quite knows," Lauren answered quietly. Her voice always seemed to be shaky when she spoke - timid and uncertain, "But, to be honest, I find him rather sinister. The way he lurks about, and hardly ever shows up for lessons. The way he always wears that stupidly long coat of his. And he always used to annoy me when we were in the First Year. He always pointed out my mistakes in science..." She looked up at Kathy, shocked and appalled at herself for saying something mean about a fellow student - something Lauren would never find herself doing intentionally for fear of the consequences, "I d-didn't...it's not..."

Kathy had then saved her the embarrassment, and suggested they headed back to the dorm.

It was as Kathy was washing her face and trying to de-tangle her blonde-with-blue-streaks hair that she finally remembered about this encounter. It was odd, as she stood there in her underwear in the girls' bathroom (and having no shame in doing so) just suddenly remembering the dark-haired boy, when she was supposed to be getting ready to go rock-pooling with Lauren.  
Seriously, what was _with_ him?

It was at the moment when she was pulling on her old, faded-blue jeans and breathing in as much as she could to fasten them, when she decided she was going to do something about this. It was ridiculous how awkward he was being around her, and it had begun to get on her nerves how he seemed to be going out of his way to avoid seeing her. Surely he couldn't have been that offended by her comments by the beach? Or the talk they had shared on the boat? Yes, he had been reluctant, but no one was that stuck-up that they'd hold such a grudge...right?

Well, whatever the matter was, she'd had enough.  
The red-haired girl - Clarissa - was having a beach party on Saturday night next week, in a place hidden behind the rocks at the back of the castle, so the teacher's wouldn't see. Most of the Twelfth Years had been invited, including Kathy and Lauren, and Kathy was very excited to go.

And Sherlock would be there. She would make sure of it.

Kathy did end up spending the morning with Lauren, hiking around the beach and searching in rock pools for a "Pagurus bernhardus" - or a hermit crab, to most people - just like she had promised. It had been cold, like they had expected, but Kathy had still spent the majority of the time sat hunched on a rock with her arms folded across her chest for warmth. She wore her hoodie, with the hood up of course, and had her knitted fingerless gloves on too - but Kathy wished she'd put on a few more layers. She could feel the sting of the crispy salty air on her thighs, despite her jeans. And after a while it had been a struggle for Kathy to wriggle her toes because they felt so numb.

Lauren, however, had gotten stuck right in and seemed not to feel the cold at all. Even though her cheeks were nearly crimson from the cold, she had her sleeves and trousers rolled up and was stepping in an out of rock pools with just her bare feet. Kathy admired her bravery - but was kind of worried the girl would get frost-bite if she wasn't careful.

It had been amazing to watch Lauren work, and Kathy had been amazed at the transformation in character when Lauren was busy doing something she was good at and enjoyed. She was smiling and laughing as she hunted around with her net and bucket in the rock pools, and, even though they weren't the most alike of girls, Kathy had managed to uphold a fairly decent conversation with the girl. Lauren seemed confident and happy - it was a nice change.

It was still a relief to return back to the castle though. Kathy threw off her hoodie (now moist from the salty spray of the sea) and wrapped herself up in her favourite turtle-neck jumper instead, along with multicoloured thermal socks. She then headed down to the Twelfth Year Common Room, made herself a cup of hot chocolate, and sat curled up on the sofa. The fire in the hearth before her crackled and it was a beautiful sound that reminded Kathy of Christmas. She loved feeling cosy like this. And the best part was, she had the whole common room to herself, as it was still just before nine, so most other students were still in bed.

It was when she was swallowing those last few drops of cocoa when something caught her eye. She tilted her head back, determined to sip all the chocolaty goodness out of her mug, when she noticed something gleaming near the fire grate.

Licking away her chocolate moustache, Kathy followed her curiosity and clambered off the sofa to see what the glimmering something was. It was only small - no longer or wider than her little finger - and seemed to glitter, like gold...

Kathy wrapped her fingers in the sleeve of her jumper, so as not to burn them, and reached out and grabbed what had caught her attention.

It was a key.

Kathy sat back on her heels and stared at it in her hands. Most people who found a mysterious key in a fireplace would be confused as to why it got there. Kathy was merely curious.

"Hmm. Odd." She said, before tucking it away in her pocket. It was still a little warm because of the flames.

"What's that?"

Kathy spun round - clearly, and understandably startled by the sudden other presence in the room. So fast in fact that her mug went flying out of her hand and landed across the rug by the stranger's feet.

Well, maybe "acquaintance" would be a better would than "stranger".

"Jeez! You nearly gave me a heart attack!" Kathy yelled, as Sherlock stood there on the rug, no more than two metres away from her, the mug resting against his well-polished shoe, "It's a good job there was nothing in that or I could've gotten hot chocolate all over the rug!"

"Oh please stop making such a fuss," Sherlock answered in that same old bored tone of his, "What was that you just picked up?"

"It was..." Kathy began, but she didn't finish. Why should she explain herself to the boy who had been ignoring her for the past month? "Nothing, thank you very much." She answered with an accusing gaze that might've been fit for a naughty five year-old.

"Well it has to have been something," Sherlock answered sharply, "Else you wouldn't have picked it up. It is impossible for you to say you picked up nothing when you so clearly did."

"Don't get smart with me." Kathy snapped back, "I found it. And it's none of your business what it is. I'll do what I like with it."

Kathy tried to get past him, but the stubborn boy refused to move.

"Give it to me." He ordered.

"You're a bit forward, aren't you?" Kathy said with narrowed eyes and a smirk. She was enjoying this.

"Excuse me?"

"Nothing. You probably wouldn't understand anyway."  
" I would - "

"Would not. Now can you move please? I want to get past."

"Let me see -"

"No."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes and his upper lip curled into a disgusted snarl. The words he spoke next were spat directly into Kathy's face.

"You fail to understand the possible importance of what you're hiding in the pocket of your one-size-too-small jeans. Your mind is so self-centred, so egotistical and so..._average_ that you're willing to waste time mocking me and childishly bickering with me, when I have far better things to do than talk to you. You're nothing special, Kathy, and nor will you ever be. You walk around with that smile on your face and those stupid studs, and that _ridiculous_ hair, without a care in the world. But let me tell you this - you're nothing. You're just a fatherless girl in a place where she doesn't belong and can barely afford to be. You're behaviour is juvenile, and you're so consumed with irritating me that you underestimate -"

Kathy burst out laughing again. This sudden and unexpected action caused the coldness in Sherlock's eyes to flicker for a moment in confusion.

"Let me stop you there." She said, clearly unharmed by the bitter words that were pouring from Sherlock's mouth, "I know you don't mean any of that - not _really_ - and, I think, it would be nice if we had a nice little chat about where the heck you've been for the past month. But, as I see you're in a bad mood this morning, I'm willing to make you a deal. I will exchange you the contents of my jeans - well, my _pocket_, in case you get the wrong idea - as long as you promise to tell me why you want it so much."

Sherlock paused for a moment. His full lips pursed together thoughtfully, as he wondered whether or not to take up Kathy's peculiar offer. The seconds ticked by. Kathy became more and more impatient.

"Come on, Sherlie," She said, like she was talking to a complete idiot, "I don't have all day."

Sherlock hated being talked down to. She had figured this out. His face of distaste delighted her.

Sherlock glared at her and huffed, then said, thought clenched, pearly-white teeth, "Fine. Agreed. I'll tell you. Just not today. Now can you hand it over?"

"Alrighty then. Here you are."

She handed him the key. Sherlock didn't even glance down at it. He kept his dark eyes on Kathy the entire time while he took it from her with a leather-gloved hand and tucked it away in his coat pocket.

"Thank you." Sherlock said stiffly. He then made a way to move. Kathy grabbed his scarf before he could take another step, pulling him so close to her that he could smell her sweet, chocolaty breath on his face. It caused a warmth in his stomach he didn't understand. The foreign territory made him freeze completely.

"I trust you'll keep your side of the deal?" She whispered. Sherlock noticed her eyes glance briefly at his lips. The action confused him.

"I never break a promise." He answered.

Kathy looked into his blue eyes for a moment longer. He looked right back at her. There was a long moment where nothing was said. The tension between the two of them grew.

Only when some of the girls entered the common room to watch the TV did Kathy let him go. She slumped back down on the sofa and stared into the fire, for some reason regretting how soon the two of them had separated.

Later that day, when Kathy lay reading in bed, she found a note hidden well in the book she was reading. It fell out from between the pages as she turned one, and across her chest. By the light of the moon she read:

I'll be on the causeway from 0100 - 0300 hrs.

Come, if convenient.

SH

She glanced at her clock. It was 1.15 AM.

'Better put on something more than a hoodie this time...' Kathy thought.


	6. Chapter 6

Kathy zipped her hoodie right up to her chin as she braced against the wind outside. Her hands were dug deep into her pockets as she ran down the castle's stone steps. Her shoulders were hunched as she made her way across the dusty courtyard. And her old trainers still didn't seem thick enough to fight against the cold as she clambered over the locked gate that lead to the causeway. Her toes were numb.

But when Kathy finally did manage to get down there (undetected, of course; it being the middle of the night), her numb mitten-covered hands felt a tingle of warmth at the sight of the tiny figure in the distance.

For some reason, the sight of Sherlock Holmes made her feel slightly angry. But not the usual kind of angry she felt when, say, her younger brothers splattered paint all over the bedroom carpet last year (more than once). And not the kind of angry when her laptop battery ran out unexpectedly.

This was more...frustration. Frustration as to where the heck Sherlock had been. And why. And what his problem was. And why no one seemed to have a good word to say about him. And why he was just so _god damn rude_ when all she was trying to do was be nice.

The causeway was about the length of two football pitches - incredibly and stupidly long. The walk was a boring one if you were on your own - especially if you're in a hurry to get somewhere. Kathy walked briskly against the wind that whipped about her. She ignored the cold. She was used to it. It was Sherlock that she was focused on now.

He didn't turn to greet her, as would be expected. Instead, he stayed frozen, leaning against the steel rail with his forearms - not moving even the slightest of inches as he stared out at the vast ocean before him.

"Well?" Kathy said.

For a moment it seemed he hadn't even noticed she was there. He turned his head to look at her briefly, before looking back out at the sea again. Kathy noted how his expression looked serious, and cold.

"I see you got my note," He finally said.

"Well, yeah - that's why I'm here. I don't usually go for late-night strolls along the breakwater. It's not exactly the norm, is it?"

Sherlock paid no attention to that remark. His expression stayed firm and unresponsive.

"When you came over to me on the ferry," He said, "You said that at your old school they used to call you a freak..."

"Yes?"

"Is that true?"

The wind died down now. Quite suddenly, in fact. The eerie whistle that had been echoing in Kathy's ears stopped. Everything was still.

"Why do you care what people called me at my old school?"

"Just answer the question."

Kathy watched his face with curiosity and confusion, "Yes." She answered, "It's true."

She watched him nod as he took in the information. Still, his eyes did not meet hers.

"Good."

"_'Good'_?" Kathy hissed, "What d'you mean, _'good'_?"

Sherlock continued to ignore her questions. He spoke as if Kathy hadn't said a word; "How did it make you feel?"

"I..._what_? What are you talking about?"

He said the words again slowly, as if she had struggled to understand what he had said; "_How did it make you feel?_"

"Why is this even-?"

"Answer me."

His voice had only been quiet. But there was a sinister force behind it that Kathy could not deny or ignore. There was something hidden within the depths of those words that turned a simple request into a threat. With it being the middle of the night, with no witnesses, and crashing waves mere metres away, Kathy decided not to risk getting on the bad-side of the possible sociopath she was stood next to. She was drawn to Sherlock in a way she could not explain, but her slight infatuation had distracted her from the fact she really did not know this boy. She knew nothing of him or his past or why people preferred to avoid him. There was more to this boy than first met the eye...

"It made me feel excluded." She finally answered, with a bitter edge to her voice. She rattled out the words as fast as she could manage just to get them over and done with, "it made me feel..._different_ from the rest. Bad different. Like I somehow offended them all just by being in front of them."

"Would you say that you brought it on yourself?"

"Well, I...hang on. Would I _what_?"

"Do you think they were right to say that?"

"What the f-?" Kathy found herself getting angry again. Surely it couldn't be good for her, having so many mood swings? "What are you _saying_?!"

His head snapped sideways to look at her; "Nothing." He said, with that cold edge once more, "I'm asking."

"Asking if it was _my_ _fault_?!"

"Yes."

"No, _it fucking was not_!"

"Good."

Infuriating Kathy even more, Sherlock turned back to look out at the scenery. The blackness of the sky was reflected in the deepening waters of the sea below. If it weren't for the waves, the two would surely have blended into one stretching canvas of darkness; lit by only the sharp pricks of light from the stars. The glow of the eerie moon beamed down on them both; lighting the bay and their faces with pale light. Kathy noticed that it made Sherlock appear even paler than he did in the day - almost like a ghost, with his skinny frame and thin, sunken cheeks. In the light, his cheekbones seemed even sharper, his hair somehow darker, but his eyes...his blue-green eyes, just for a second, seemed to sparkle with a light from within. A light of happiness. A light of hope. A light that showed, just for an instant, the true person that Sherlock was hiding, beneath his high-collared coat and blue scarf...

But when Sherlock turned back to look at her, that light was extinguished as quickly as it had arrived. His eyes went dark, and cold - much like the air around them. Kathy felt herself draw back slightly.

He looked sinister.

"Why are you asking me all this?" Kathy then managed to ask. She spoke quietly now. She no longer felt angry or annoyed or even curious about him. She felt scared, and was worried about what he would do next.

And those dark eyes met hers again; narrowed and searching in such a way that Kathy took a step away from him. Her hands trembled; but this time, it was not from the cold.

"What do you want from me?"

Kathy was sure that he was going to yell at her - he would shout and lunge for her and she wouldn't be able to get away. It would be like in those scary movies she used to watch back home, or the murder-mystery TV shows that her mum always had on TV. There were no witnesses. He could do what he wanted with her - as grim and ghastly as he chose - and not a single person would be able to even hear her scream due to the crashing of the waves, and the great distance they were away from the castle. This would be it. He'd grab her by the throat and tackle her to the ground; fists raised and pounding her skull against the concrete beneath her; before hurling her body out into the ocean, to be washed away and lost in the salty water forever...all that would be seen the next day is the pool of her blood left of the causeway, dripping off the side and into the sea. People would presume it was an animal - what student would kill another like that? He was mad enough - people had said so. There were rumours that he'd killed before. But Sherlock was clever, too. He'd dispose of any evidence that pointed a finger at him. That would be it...the body of Kathy McKenzie, lost forever...

But none of that happened, of course.

Instead, it was something even more unexpected. Something that Kathy would never have predicted in a million years, and yet something that made her fear vanish all together, and was replaced, once more, by a burning fire of curiosity within the deepest depths of her mind.

"What do you want from me?" Kathy had asked, and it was at that point Sherlock turned to face her again.

But this time, his face had not been cold. He had sensed something in her voice and had noted that the girl before him was scared. _Scared_ - of him. He'd turned into a monster. He'd begun to drive away the one person in the school who had actually showed a genuine interest in him and his perplexing ways. He'd scared her with his bitterness - with his hatred that had built and built and built over the years of teasing and taunting, and he had reflected it back, not at the bullies, but at the only girl who had ever paid any kind of attention to what he had to say.

But the thing was, he didn't know what to say now. He didn't know how to apologise - he'd never had the need to. He was almost inhuman in the way in which he didn't understand how to behave around others. Sherlock did not know how to make friends. He'd never had any. All he had known was his brother, and their constant rivalry to be better than each other. All he had known was facts and figures. He had studied human relationships in the past - but not once had he ever engaged in one.

How could he answer her question? What could he _say_? What reasonable response was there as to why he had brought the girl out onto the causeway so late at night?

He could explain why he had been avoiding her so much...but that would be embarrassing for him. The only thing he knew was that he had to say something now, before Kathy ran away in fear, and never wanted to talk to him again.

And then he'd be alone, once more. Just like he had been his entire life. And a friendship with Kathy - not even that; just talking to her without the fear of being criticised - that was all he wanted. He wanted company. He did not want to spend the rest of forever on his own - because forever was an awfully long time.

But when Sherlock went to explain himself, Kathy recoiled away from him, as if his words burned her like a flame. The strange thing was, he had hardly said a word to her - and yet the insults he had strung out on previous occasions had not made her so much as blink. Actions, for Kathy, spoke louder than words, and Sherlock's behaviour had been frightening to her.

He called after her as she ran back towards the castle, but Kathy did not look back.

And as her figure got smaller and smaller, Sherlock stood and watched as his first and only chance at happiness disappeared into the dark.

The night engulfed it; surrounding him with nothing but darkness.

And Sherlock Holmes was alone once more.


End file.
